We’re close enough to the gates for the guard to begin looking at us curiously when Lord Layton’s unease reaches a tipping point.

  “Lord Markus,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving.

  “Hm?”

  “Have you considered they might stall while threatening your Bonded or fleeing?”

  “I’ve considered it,” I agree absently as I eye the gate.

  “And? You do not consider it to be worthy of…perhaps not knocking?”

  At that I turn my head a little and give him a small smirk.

  “I think they’ll be a little too occupied. Knock, knock.” Layton gives me an odd look. “You’re supposed to ask ‘Who’s there?’” I prompt.

  “...Who’s there?” Layton asks after a brief hesitation.

  “The fire department,” I answer, my smirk widening into a grin even as the complete incomprehension on Layton’s face shows the irony is lost on him. Aingeal? Layton breathes sharply as the little elemental zips out of his specially-made pouch and zooms towards the door in a flash of flame.

  The eyes of the guard standing outside the gate widen in alarm and he dives to one side as the ball of fire impacts the wooden gates. They erupt into flame, Aingeal’s fire devouring the dry wood. The enchantments don’t stand a chance.

  Shouts of alarm ring out from the house and the watchers abruptly become more obvious as they lean out from wherever they’re hiding to see what’s going on.

  Ivor, Noir, I prompt and two of the dots circling up above quickly start growing. Kalanthia, you’re up too.

  With pleasure, she snarls. I feel her concentrate – she’ll use her Earth sense to discover and collapse any escape tunnels. If she catches a few rats fleeing the sinking ship, I’m not going to mourn them. Now I’ve made my opening move, there’s no need to keep her concealed.

  “Lord Markus?”

  “Yes?” I ask absently as I send out an Inspect, then nod in satisfaction – the gate was the focal point of the protective dome and it’s starting to flicker as the gate burns down. I can’t sense my Bonded yet, but I have a plan for that.

  Lathani, your turn. Be careful.

  I will, she promises, and then I sense her move ahead of me.

  “What if this is the wrong house? I thought you were going to actually knock?”

  “Then I’ll apologise and settle the damages,” I tell him lightly, watching the gates crumble. Their structural integrity is rapidly being compromised, but they’re still largely intact. “Lord Layton, you said you had temperature control. Can you protect a group of us from the flames?”

  Layton blinks at the question.

  “As long as it’s not too big, yes,” he agrees warily.

  “And can you do it quickly?”

  “In an instant,” he agrees, more confidently.

  “Good. Then please shield us before we get burnt.”

  “Who’s ‘us’?” he asks, only to receive an answer as Fenrir, Ninja, and Bastet drop all attempts at stealth and run forwards to join us. I send Layton an anticipatory grin and then fix my eyes on the gates.

  “Charge!”

  Running, we close the gap between us and the gate faster than the still-panicking guards were expecting. Layton is taken briefly off-guard too, but he catches up with us quickly.

  The heat of the flames increases to almost painful levels, then abruptly cuts off as Layton wraps his magic around us. I’m glad – though I can protect myself from being burned, the best I can do for my companions is keep the fire itself away from them. But that doesn’t protect them from the heat.

  We explode through the fire and slide to a halt in the courtyard beyond them. I send a quick pulse of Inspect, marking the position of the closest enemies. They’re taken by surprise and are currently unmoving.

  Aingeal pulls away from the flames, coming to circle around my head.

  Go to the upper levels, I direct him. Check for our companions there. If you can’t find them, set light to things as a distraction. Be careful – we don’t know what magic they have available to them. A fire elemental is powerful in its domain, but is counterbalanced by incredible vulnerability to opposing elements, namely water and earth. He sends me gleeful agreement and then zooms off.

  A terrified cry from a balcony above followed quickly by another one has me look up – Ivor and Noir have each grabbed someone and are flying away with them.

  Watch out for Skills and weapons! I warn them. They send me grim acknowledgement in response.

  Layton unsheathes his sword and looks around, his face set in hard lines. I follow his gaze and see the group of men my Inspect noticed. They were obviously playing a game of some sort, but the attack on the gates must have made them scramble to their feet as they’re standing, several with weapons bared. They’re staring at us with surprise and a varied mixture of fear and anger.

  “Still think we’re in the wrong house?” I ask wryly. Layton shakes his head slowly – the men before us are most definitely not merchants’ guards or servants. Their mismatched attire and general state of disrepute has far more in common with the bandits I captured than anyone else.

  There’s a moment of stillness, and then most of the men let out angry cries and start charging towards us. Three, however, decide that retreat is the better part of valour and turn to run away.

  I pull my spear out of my Inventory and stand next to Layton – since there are few enough enemies and none of them are Classers, I’d prefer to save my mana if possible. Ninja and Bastet stand to one side of us, teeth bared and wings stiff; Fenrir stands to the other, though a bit forward, hissing.

  “So, you say you’re pretty good with that, then?” I comment to Layton, nodding towards the sword in his hand as the rough-looking men scream towards us, faces red and eyes furious.

  “Better than you are with that,” he replies, nodding in his turn towards my spear. I can’t help but grin – fair enough. And then they’re upon us.

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  The world dissolves into the chaos of a fight – flashes of silver, splashes of blood, the ring of steel and shouted rage. Heat rising and blood pumping contrasts with the occasional bite of pain as a weapon hits its mark.

  But a group of non-Classers, even if they outnumbered us three-to-one would never be enough to take on our party. I don’t even need to use any magic to send them to the ground, groaning, merely my greater strength and speed. Against my Bonded, they fare even worse – several turn tail and limp away with all their speed when they realise how sharp my raptorcats’ claws and teeth are, or how impenetrable are the scales and venomous fangs of my lizog.

  And they’re the lucky ones – by the time we’re finished, more than half of the band lie on the ground, either groaning and moving weakly or unnaturally still. They won’t be getting up anytime soon.

  “Well,” Layton pants, his eyes wide. “That was exhilarating.” He’s trembling slightly, but from the lack of fear in his eyes, I have to guess it’s adrenaline.

  I look at him in slight surprise.

  “Was that your first proper fight?”

  “The first against men,” he admits. “Beast waves, yes – when it’s every fighter to the defences. But Nethyar raids rarely attack cities.”

  Huh. Perhaps fighting the sapient samurans made battling other humans easier for me to stomach.

  “Check them for anything that might be useful, would you?” I ask him. He swallows, then nods and we move to investigate the pockets of the fallen. We have a group of prisoners here – and could do with some information from them, I say, reaching out to Mathis. I sense his unease at our connection – he has none of the control of Nicholas – but he’s professionally brisk in his response.

  We’re coming, my lord.

  I nod absently, eyeing the closed door to the main bit of the house. Perhaps I have another way to get some of the information I want, and more quickly than waiting for these men to be questioned.

  Watch my back, I ask my companions. Bastet takes the instruction literally, moving to face the space behind me.

  Casting Inspect, I ask it to send me as much information as it can, nevermind it being detected. At the last moment, I remember to make it avoid Layton – I’ve only just fought my last honour duel.

  With no protective barrier deflecting it, my Inspect spreads out like a wave. As I already knew, none of the people directly around us were Classers, but there are several in the building. Unfortunately, we’re not close enough to them for me to get any details, but I can tell that all but one are significantly weaker than I am.

  Most of the people are concentrated on the ground floor, and quite a few seem to be trying to flee. Some are heading for an escape tunnel. I send the information to Kalanthia and she sends me a sense of grim satisfaction – she’s already found it and is just waiting for anyone who pops out of it. I feel a hint of unease at the thought that she’s unlikely to show them much more mercy than a quick death, but thoughts of the bandits and their crimes make me push that to the side. They probably deserve worse.

  Also of interest are two rooms which my Inspect can’t access – one on the top floor, one underground. I still can’t sense my Bonded, but they must be in one of those rooms. Either that or they have magic hiding them from my Inspect Skill.

  I send the location of the first to Aingeal and the second to Lathani for them to investigate.

  On it, Lathani replies with determination; Aingeal replies with similar agreement.

  However, even if some of the rats are trying to escape, there are many who are clearly preparing to fight. Lathani’s avoiding them by using the shadows to sneak around, but I won’t be able to do the same – even if my Fade were strong enough to hide me from the sharper eyes of Classers, I can’t extend it to my group. Most immediately, there are ten fighters including one mage-type Classer hiding in ambush around the door I’m about to walk through.

  There are easier ways of dealing with an ambush than walking straight into it. And I’m in a hurry – especially when Lathani reports that a massive man accompanied by a whole group of dangerous-looking fighters are heading in the same direction as she is.

  And there’s something moving in the shadows too, she warns. Worrying.

  When Aingeal confirms that the room I directed him to is empty of living beings, I become convinced that my companions are being held in the basement area – and that they will soon be in trouble.

  “Lord Markus, what are you doing?” Layton’s voice interrupts me as I pull a Tier two Core out of my Inventory.

  “Making a bomb,” I answer him and then focus on feeding mana into the Core, as much and as fast as possible.

  I barely hear his follow up question, and I’m too busy to respond to it.

  “What’s a bomb?”

  It’s not a big Core so it only takes a quarter of my mana. Holding it, I feed a trickle more into the metal latch of the door.

  Stay clear of the door, I warn my Bonded. Lord Layton fortunately is capable of reading my gesture to come to the side.

  In one move, I yank open one half of the door, throw the Core at the floor just within – hard – and then slam the door shut.

  The door rocks a little as loud thuds ring out. But not as loudly as the screams.

  “That’s a bomb,” I can’t help commenting to Layton, grimly enjoying his shocked expression. Go! I send to my companions as I wrench the doors open again.

  We dart in, Layton again taking the cue to follow. Our would-be ambushers are reeling backwards, their hands to their faces. Many are bleeding, and those who aren’t bleeding are in disarray.

  I go straight for the mage who’s at the back of the group even as my companions start cutting their own swathes through the others. The mage raises a staff, the stone at the top starting to glow bright orange. He’s covered in burn scars. When his attack is a stereotypical fireball, I’m hardly surprised.

  Covering my hand with fire-mana, I reach out and stop it midair. It fights against me for a moment, eager to explode and consume me. I can’t help taking a moment to examine it – although I’ve been able to make fire-grenades, I’ve never actually worked out how to make a fireball.

  “How did you-?” The mage reminds me that we’re in the middle of a battle. As I look up, he seems to decide that either it was a fluke or that if one fireball won’t work, maybe more will. He starts sending them to one after another – these ones smaller, but far more frequent.

  Despite the situation, I find I’m actually enjoying it a little bit – I move from catching the fireballs to deflecting them, though I do my best to avoid anywhere my companions are while continuing to walk forward.

  “You call that fire?” I ask him. I could use water against him, but I decide not to – there’s something satisfying about beating someone at their own game. “This is fire.”

  Fire billows from the hand I was using to deflect the fireballs. I fancifully shape it into Noir and send it diving at the mage. His eyes go white; he turns and runs.

  I leap forward, my physical stats outstripping his by significant amounts. Grabbing a vial from my Inventory, I quickly coat my spearblade with the anti-magic poison River made for me a while back. Much like the anti-magic manacles, it doesn't affect stats, but it does prevent magic or magical Skill use. And I’d rather keep the manacles for later. This mage isn’t the strongest Classer around.

  The mage goes down the moment I stab the back of his leg. I pin him down and bind his hands and legs with spidersilk rope, then drag him back to the others. Behind me, Bastet, Fenrir, Ninja, and Layton are almost through with the non-Classers – instead of helping them finish, I move to bind those who look like they might be crawling wounded rather than dead.

  I can’t help appreciating Layton’s blade-work. He’s using some sort of enhancement on himself – he’s moving fast enough to be a blur even to my eyes. He also seems to have debuffed his opponents somehow – the longer they fight, the slower they get. Maybe it’s like that frozen debuff Valence used on me?

  After that, it’s just the clean up. I send a quick message to Mathis about it.

  “Ninja, Fenrir stay here until Mathis and the others arrive, would you?” I say out loud so our new prisoners can hear me. “I need you both to guard these doors and these prisoners. If anyone tries to escape, eat them.”

  Fenrir, diva that he is, takes the cue to hiss menacingly. He even makes venom drip from his fangs as he starts prowling through the downed criminals. His menace is so much that some of them even stop moaning in pain from fright. Ninja is less of a practised actress, but she makes an excellent attempt at intimidation by growling and flaring her wings out wide. At the same time, she sends me a dissatisfied sense of longing. I know she wants to come with me to find the rest of our companions – and her brother.

  I need you to watch our backs, I tell her earnestly – it’s true, even if it’s not the whole of it. The group of Classers heading towards the basement are the strongest I’ve sensed here. I don’t want Ninja caught in a fight with them if I can avoid it. Fenrir would probably be fine, but I can’t leave Ninja here on her own.

  I haven’t heard anything from Lathani since her last report about the group – that worries me. And her Bond is muffled, like those of my kidnapped companions. Hopefully she’s found them – and hasn’t been captured herself.

  “Come on,” I say to Layton and Bastet when it’s clear that the bound brigands are sufficiently cowed.

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